


Day 21 -- Scar

by Flamebird38



Series: 31 Days of Apex [19]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: 31 Days of Apex (Apex Legends)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25438276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebird38/pseuds/Flamebird38
Summary: There's a reason why most of the Legends wear long sleeves and pants. But when they're lounging in the dropship, those coverings tend come off.
Series: 31 Days of Apex [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811551
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Day 21 -- Scar

The dropship was our home away from home. When the Games are in the middle of a season, the Syndicate sees it as a waste of resources to bring us back to the city after every match. Instead, we make temporary homes in dorms, socialize in common rooms, and train in the biggest equipment room imaginable. Though, during most days, I’m just about the only one here.

Usually, I spend my time in the firing range. It’s small, quiet, and people know not to bother me when I’m in there. When I decide to just use the gym area, every so often a Legend will wander in and do some cardio—usually not with me. More times than not, it’s Gibraltar, Lifeline, or Wraith that will quietly make their way in and quietly make their way out.

So when I wake up and make my way to the facility, I am rightfully shocked when I walk in and see Wattson doing bench presses. Mentally counting the weight that she’s pressing, I raise my eyebrows impressed. It was always hard to tell the amount of strength the little girl had under that extremely puffy jacket.

“You need a spot there, Sparky?” I walk up to her, careful to not spook her so she doesn’t drop all that weight and crack a rib.

Wattson looks at me, pleasant surprise written across her face. She racks her barbell and sits up. “Oh! I was wondering if I was going to have a workout buddy! I figured maybe I didn’t wake up early enough.” Her smile at the end is sheepish.

“I mean, I don’t wake up at 4am if that’s what you're saying,” I chuckle as I set my water next to the bench to the left of her. When I sit down, my eyes fall on her shoulder. Instead of her normal shirt and jacket, Wattson is wearing a simple workout tank. Her scar, which usually was almost completely covered, is now in full view. It creeps from her face, across her entire shoulder, and then down to almost her elbow.

When she notices, Wattson lets out a sound of surprise. “Oh, yes, I guess this is something many people are not used to seeing.”

“I am— I’m sorry for staring.” I truly didn’t mean to. Maybe she’s self-conscious about it. Maybe she just wanted to be left alone like I normally do.

“No, it’s okay,” She chuckles. “It’s just one of the many possible hazards when you’re an electrical engineer. You have to expect the spark of life to flow through you every once in a while.” She looks down at her scar, smiling. I study it a tad more, and it certainly does resemble a large, elegant tree. I don’t ask her more about it for fear of invading her privacy.

“What about yours?” Wattson’s words are sudden, a very quick change of pace. I look down at my arms. Scars from just about everything imaginable riddle them. Just like her, I liked wearing long sleeves in the ring and in public to hide my former wounds.

“Which one? You have to be more specific.”

“That… one.” She leans forward and lightly touches a rather large scar I have on my bicep.

“Ah,” I breathe, looking down at it. “Well, it’s just one of the many hazards when you're a soldier.” I wink at her. “It was, uh, during one of my first big battles. I got hit with a couple of rounds from a flatline, but it didn’t hit anything vital so there wasn’t much to worry about.”

Wattson nods as she keeps examining my arms. “Thank you for sharing. I know how you enjoy your privacy.” Sincerity is bright in her eyes when she looks up at me.

I grin at her. “It’s only fair. A story for a story… sorta.”

After a few seconds of silence, Wattson lies back down on the bench and unracks her weights. “Well, let’s hope an injury like that doesn’t hinder you.” She starts her reps again, pumping out those 135-pound presses like they’re mere ounces.

“Is that a challenge, Paquette?” I barely see her get the biggest smile on her face. “Because you’re so on.”


End file.
